


Monster

by Ravenmaster



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: (or more like reluctant roommates to lovers), Bathing/Washing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hurt Wade, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Massage, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sort of? - Freeform, magical healing hands more like it, more like feelings with a dash of porn, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenmaster/pseuds/Ravenmaster
Summary: Wade is having a Bad Head Day, in which his head thinks Bad Thoughts.Nate helps prove those thoughts wrong.





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, folks! Just a quick TW at the start: Wade has got full intentions of shooting himself at the beginning of the story, and there are a lot of thoughts of self hatred. He doesn't actually commit suicide, but if it's an iffy topic for you, proceed with caution.

Wade had wondered from the start what it would take to crack a tough nut like Nathan Summers, to get to the gooey, sticky inside part. He had always assumed it would be something child related (because, you know, the savior complex and the big Daughter Death Trauma).

 

Apparently it only took one shitty mission and a few casual words. “Might wanna crash somewhere else today, hot stuff, because daddy’s going to have a nice glass of wine, and eat some bullets for dessert.”

 

Didn’t get any response, though, so instead he just kicked off his shoes (wet, uncomfortable, blisters forming on his toes), walked on sopping socks to their tiny kitchen, and grabbed the best bottle of wine they had.

 

(It was Nate’s.)

 

(He’d pay him back later.)

 

(No, he wouldn’t.)

 

Now he just had to get it open, somehow. Drawers open, so much cutlery, why did they have so much cutlery, it’s not like they ever had any guests - _who the fuck would want to come over anyway_ \- and yet no corkscrew, where was the corkscrew?

 

“Nate!” A glimpse of reflection in the glass of the cabinets: mask ripped, dried blood on his ( _disgusting, disfigured, unworthy_ ) face. Still no response. “Nathan Christopher Charles Charred Chicken Summers, where the fuck is that fucking corkscrew? If I have to put things back in their place, so should you! This wine isn’t gonna -”

 

“Looking for this?”

 

Wade felt a little caught as he turned around rapidly, bottle of wine in his hands. (Mask torn, _gross fucking face_ on display.) Which was not necessary at all, the feeling caught thing, because this was _his_ (their) house after all.

 

Nate had a corkscrew in his hand, on the other side of the living room. He made no move to go to the kitchen.

 

“That’s the one,” said Wade, as cheerfully as he could manage. (Like a sad fart.) “Are you gonna make me come all the way over there?”

 

Nate’s face didn’t even shift a little. “Yes,” he simply replied. “And bring two glasses.”

 

Uh. “You weren’t invited to the wine party.”

 

But Nathan just blinked slowly. “Which is why I invited myself. Got a bath running, I think you could use it.”

 

“Nope.” Something unnerving, uncomfortable crawled under Wade’s skin, causing him to claw uselessly at his arms through his suit. “Last time I did the shooty thing in a bathtub, this stray bullet broke the sink. Honestly, water _everywhere_ , and the bills I had to pay afterwards…” He made a few gestures with gloved hands. “You know. Lotta money, hot stuff.”

 

Nathan said nothing. Instead, he gave Wade a long look (the crawling skin feeling came right back), and then walked over to him. Or not to him, actually - to the cabinets behind him.

 

“Need a hand?” he asked. Mostly to tease. _Because everyone just loves it when you do that_. “Should I grab a stool for you?”

 

But Nate just grabbed the wine glasses in one hand, then plucked the bottle from Wade’s hands with the other. “I’m good,” he said. “Do you want to bathe with me or not?”

 

Uh.

 

Wade blinked.

 

Once. Twice.

 

(He was probably dead, come to think of it.)

 

 _No real fucking creature would want to come anywhere near you, period - let alone naked_.

 

“You just said something really weird,” he pointed out. “I’m the one who’s supposed to do that.”

 

Nate gave him the patented ‘I’m actively not rolling my eyes’ look. “Is that a no?”

 

Uhhhhh. “Would we even fit?”

 

But Nate was already in the bathroom before he answered. “There’s only one way to find out.”

 

Wade still stood there for about two minutes, in silence (complete, real silence), trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Because he was pretty sure his goal had been to get rid of Nathan for a few hours, to be alone with his shame and his hate and his bullets, and now he was going to share a bath with his naked, handsome, completely unwelcome roommate.

 

_You’re not going to, because if you take that ugly ass thing off, Nathan is going to grab your gun and kill himself before you get the chance to._

 

“If Nate was going to kill himself, I’m sure he’d do it with his own gun,” Wade whispered back at his Fucked Head, but his Fucked Head could not care less. Neither could Nathan, by the way - who he could now see through the door to the bathroom, undressing so methodically that it almost wasn’t sexy anymore.

 

(Almost being the key word here, obviously.)

 

His suit was starting to itch, standing there in the doorway (when had he walked over to the doorway?), but he was too busy staring to care. “So did you fall really hard on your head today and are you now losing it, or is this some sort of sex pollen thing and are you really that desperate?”

 

The bathtub was almost halfway full, steaming lightly in their cold bathroom. Even without sopping wet socks, those tiles were freezing. Nate slowly twisted the taps shut, shirtless, and then methodically removed his pants and underwear. “Neither. My head is fine, and we’re just going to bathe, nothing more. Do you want to pour the wine?”

 

But Wade wasn’t listening, because Nathan was naked. Fully, shamelessly nude - and okay, Wade had seen glimpses before over the past few months, so he’d had an idea what he’d look like, but that didn’t mean that he had been in any way prepared for this. Because fuck?

 

Fuck.

 

Now he could see everything _up close_. Every scar, the very edges of where the metal had infected him, every silvery hair on his chest, every vein bulging on his arm -

 

And he had a really nice cock, too. Sure, okay, maybe it wasn’t really that interested in what was going on, but Wade was a man of class. He loved dicks in all forms, shapes and sizes, and in all states of being. But Nate’s was special, because Nate’s was _Nate’s._

 

“You’re staring,” Nate pointed out. “How’s your head?”

 

Wade blinked once, twice. “You’re naked.”

 

“I suggest you get naked too, because that suit isn’t going to join us.” Nathan pulled the wine cork open with a soft ‘pop’, and then poured two large glasses. “How is your head, Wade?”

 

How was his head? What kinda question was that? “I mean, it’s still on.”

 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

Of course he knew. He was a lot of things - _gross, unworthy, waste of space, monstrous, disgusting_  - but he wasn’t stupid. “Well, my plan was to kiss a handgun today, so how do you think my head’s doing?”

 

Nate didn’t answer that. Instead, he held one glass of wine in his left hand, and fingered at the end of Wade’s mask with the other. “I’m going to take this off, now,” he warned.

 

He probably should’ve stopped him.

 

He didn’t.

 

Instead, Wade allowed him to slowly peel back the ripped fabric, gently pulling it away where dried blood had caked it to his face, until he finally dropped it on the floor. Wade’s eyes followed it; much better than actually looking Nate in the eye, at least.

 

_Nakeddisgustingdisformedunworthyhatehatehatehate_

 

“That’s better,” Nate said, in that growly grumbly voice of his, like he _meant_ it, and Wade huffed out a laugh. Then plucked Nate’s wine from his hand, then drank it all in one go.

 

Not that it helped. Worth a shot, though.

 

Nate didn’t protest. Instead, he started undoing all the zips and buckles on Wade’s suit, and even though a part of Wade was screaming to just chop his hands off and run the hell away, there was another, larger part that was finally catching up with what this whole ordeal was about.

 

“You’re taking care of me,” he realized. “You’re daddying me.”

 

“Daddying you?” Nathan frowned. “That’s not a word.”

 

A feeling bubbled up in Wade’s chest that was just powerful enough to overshadow the strong spike of anxiety he felt as Nathan started to peel back his suit. “What do you call it when a hot dad takes care of you?”

 

“The decent fucking thing,” Nate muttered quietly, more to himself than Wade, clearly. He gestured for Wade to take off the bottom part of his suit himself, before slowly dipping his toe in the water. “I thought I’d sit behind you, how does that sound?”

 

“Like you’ve lost it,” Wade blabbed, not making any motion to take the rest of his suit off. His upper body already felt so naked, that he might as well have been stripped down to the bone. “I’m thinking early onset dementia. Very tragic. You’re going to die.”

 

Nathan slowly lowered himself into the bath, taking his time to let his body adjust to the temperature as he sat down. It wasn’t a huge bath, definitely cramped for two people, but then he spread his legs in the bath water with way too little suds, and it still looked weirdly inviting.

 

Asshole.

 

“Most people eventually die,” Nate shrugged it off. “Come here.”

 

Maybe that metal had gotten to parts of his brain already. Maybe these last few moments of complete insanity were the roots of techno-organic material biting into Nate’s Sanity Flesh Clumps and turning him into some bullshit spewer for a few weird hours, before promptly dying and shitting in the bathtub.

 

Well, he couldn’t really say no to an old man’s dying wish, right? Even if he was certifiably insane, now. So, almost numbly, Wade started to strip down completely, trying really hard not to think about it - _disgustinguglyworthlessmonsterfuckedupscarreddick_ \- and failing, until he finally threw his socks to the side, too, and tested the water with his hand.

 

“Get yourself the soap, while you’re still out,” Nate said, his voice a little softer, now, lower. “Lots of blood on you.”

 

Wade snorted, but did grab the weird, organic lavendel shit that Nathan had made him buy. “What, are you gonna wash it off me, Daddy? Scrub-a-dub-dub me all clean? Aren’t you a doll.”

 

But Nate said nothing. Instead, he just gestured at the open space in front of him and refused to break eye contact until the last remaining parts of Wade’s dignity (or his will to fight, or his wish not to creep Nathan out and scare him out of his apartment forever - whatever you wanted to call it) melted away, and he climbed in as unceremoniously as possible. Even sat down quick enough to make the water splash.

 

“You’re such a child.”

 

“And you’re the dad bathing with me, so who’s the weirdo in this equation, again?” Wade shot right back, because he was _funny_ , god damn it, so it would be nice if Nathan could fucking laugh for once.

 

He didn’t, though. Instead, he took the lavendel soap from him, uncapped it, squeezed some on his human hand with that gross squirty diarrhea sound, capped it again, and rubbed it between his hands. “You look tense.”

 

Hah. “No fucking kidding.”

 

“You can sit back, if you want. This tub is too small to keep trying not to make skin-to-skin contact, Wade.”

 

He knew that. But he also knew some things that dying-from-metal-induced-dementia Nathan Summers appeared to have forgotten, and that was that Wade was Wade. He was the _fuck up disgusting inhuman fucking empty shell killer with the monster face who deserved to get fucking paid in money but would never ever deserve the touch or affection of another human being again -_

 

Like that asshole target he’d had today had so kindly reminded him before he blew his brains out. He deserved jack fucking shit, and okay, maybe not for all the reasons he had mentioned - because the mercenary thing was just a job, and all people had jobs, right?  
  
But he did have a monster face. He was a fuck up. He was a disgusting, inhuman fucking creature with a very dead fiancé who he couldn’t get back despite all his hard attempts, who was Definitely Gone now, and that was his fault.

 

And then there was a slimy, warm hand on his shoulder, and Wade almost jumped out of his skin, almost tore a muscle trying to turn around to see what that was.“Jesus - what the fuck?!”

 

But Nathan just rolled his eyes. “It’s soap, Wade. It’s okay, you can relax.”

 

Hah, easy for him to say. “Can only relax if I’m dead, gorgeous, and you’re death-blocking me.”

 

Nate hummed, but didn’t pull his hand back. Which was annoying, because now Wade’s whole focused was zeroed in on that one hand, and it felt strange. People didn’t touch him. People didn’t touch his skin.

 

It felt really, really wrong, and he was terrified that if he moved or said something, Nate would make things right again and pull back.

 

“Very intentionally death-blocking you,” Nathan shamelessly admitted, and then he started to _rub Wade’s back_ , like it was fucking nothing to him. “Your suicide sprees are depressing.”

 

Wade blinked once, twice. There was probably something witty he could’ve said to that. He didn’t. Nathan was rubbing his back, touching him, _touching him gently_ , and Wade barely dared to breathe. It felt so fucking good, he could cry.

 

Oh, that fucking, fucking asshole, with his softcore affection and gentle words. That shimmering douchebag.

 

“What’s your endgame?” he managed to ask, and his voice was tight, clipped, and Wade _hated_ it. Because this was just one hand, in one bath, and he was falling apart. Like a dandelion in the wind, just being blown to pieces by the smallest of triggers.

 

This wasn’t the trigger that was supposed to blow him to pieces tonight.

 

“To get you clean,” said Nate, like a liar. Then, in a softer tone (the asshole) he added: “And to make you feel loved for one stupid evening.”

 

Wade’s stomach twisted, so he laughed. “You don’t have to go through all this to show me that, Future Messiah! I mean, everyone loves me. What’s not to like? Between my guns and my perky little tush, I get my fair share of lovin’, you know. Got fangirls coming in in heaps, duh.”

 

This was also one of those stupid moments where Nathan refused to laugh at his fantastic wit - but he did do something different this time. Instead of just feeling his hands (yes, the metal one too at this point, surprisingly warm to the touch), he suddenly also felt a pair of lips at the base of his neck.

 

And Wade’s brain crashed.

 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said in that grovely voice of his, like nothing had happened. “If I do something that you don’t like, just tell me.”

 

Wade blinked. And breathed. And said nothing.

 

“Still with me?” he prodded after a minute of Full, Real Silence. “How’s your head?”

 

Wade blinked again. “You kissed my neck.”

 

Nate ignored him. “How is your head?” he repeated.

 

“Can’t think. You kissed my neck.”

 

“Hmm.” Warm fingers gently pressed into the knots in his back muscles, sending little signals of pain to his brain, but the good kind. “Good move, or bad move?”

 

Another knot, more painful this time, in his shoulder, pressed down hard enough to make Wade whine. “Huh?”

 

“Kissing you, are you okay with that?”

 

If he was okay with getting kissed. He’d landed himself in some fucking dream, probably. A dream of warm, steaming water soaking off the blood on his body, a dream of strong, warm fingers rubbing and touching so much of that fucking toad skin, a dream where Nathan Summers was asking permission to kiss him. To take care of him.

 

Well, if he was dreaming, there was limited time before he’d wake up again, and he needed to milk this shit for all it was worth.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Sure.”

 

He was rewarded with a little nuzzle at the back of his neck, and he shivered. Hard. That motherfucker knew how to turn him into a big fucking mess.

 

“You need to tell me if I do something you don’t like,” said Nate.

 

Wade mhm-ed.

 

Nate snorted a little, but his hands stayed on Wade’s back, rubbing, soothing, kind. “What, have I rendered the Merc with a Mouth speechless?”

 

Wade took a deep breath. The strong hands on his back stayed, even then. Just… touching. Touching him, the complete untouchable, the gross prune monster of nightmares. “Shouldn’t jinx it, Summers, I can talk.”

 

“Hm. I see.” Warm, soapy hands traveled down to Wade’s arms, washing him down in slow, round strokes. Like he was rubbing all the tension away from Wade’s body, turning him into this little puppet that he could just push and pull however he wanted.

 

And he did. Slowly, but clearly, he pulled Wade backwards, until his whole back was suddenly in contact with real skin. Real hairs. Real metal.

 

Wade shivered again. It felt wrong. It also felt so, so fucking good.

 

“You can talk if you want,” Nate went on, quietly, as his hands trailed up and down Wade’s useless, boneless arms. He would’ve had goosebumps if he could have them. “I like your voice.”

 

His hands moved over to rub over his chest, and Wade’s breath started to come out uneven. “Bullshit,” he wanted to say, but it was more a non-committal whisper.

 

Nathan shifted behind him, skin softly brushing against skin, and it was such a goddamn fucking _gentle_ feeling, Wade almost whimpered.

 

If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

 

“No, I mean it,” Nate gently pushed on. His metal thumb rubbed over Wade’s nipple; he sucked in a shaky breath. “Could listen to you for hours, if all the self-hating humor wouldn’t ruin the charm of it.”

 

Wade’s eyes slowly fell shut. His body felt alight; he was vaguely aware that he was definitely getting hard, but as the day crashed down on him, he didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed about it. If Nate found out, he’d find out. Big deal, none of this was real anyway.

 

It still felt magical, though. For a few minutes, it was just back touching chest, gentle, loving hands on his body, _grosshorribledisgusting_ body, rubbing the tension out of him in round, slow strokes, washing all the dirt and blood and sweat off of him, until Wade slowly felt himself go boneless, shameless, leaning his head back on Nate’s shoulder and really, actually, trusting him not to snap his neck.

 

He didn’t. Instead, he nuzzled at Wade’s temple, and kissed his cheek. “That’s it, baby. You’re so gorgeous like this.”

 

 _Baby. Gorgeous_. A soft whimper escaped Wade’s lips before he could help it. He didn’t deserve those words, but god, did it feel good to hear them.

 

Nate seemed to be encouraged by that, though, because a soft, metal hand made its way up to Wade’s pecs again, slowly rubbing his chest, fingers teasingly stroking over his nipples. “There we go. You look great when you let go, you know that?”

 

Wade knew that that was bullshit, but right now, he was at a point where he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nathan’s flesh hand had moved up to his scalp, and slowly massaging it with precise fingertips. It felt so fucking good, he wasn’t even surprised when he heard himself moan.

 

He was surprised when that moan made Nathan’s breath hitch.

 

“Feeling good, handsome?” His voice was a low rumble, his thumb was rubbing at a spot at the base of his skull. “How’s your head?”

 

God, he was so warm. And soft. And _there_. Instinctively, Wade turned a little bit to his side, so he could lay his head on Nathan’s chest properly - and if his cock briefly brushed against Nate’s thigh, then he felt no shame about it. “‘s Good.”

 

Soft lips and short stubble pressed against the top of his head, over and over, until he was a shaking mess in Nate’s arms. Maybe he was crying, too - his head was swimming too much for him to really care.

 

Finally, after another ten minutes of just soaking together like this, with kind touches and the occasional praise, he heard Nathan ask: “What happened today that made you feel so bad?”

 

A little stormy cloud made its way into Wade’s bliss, and he pressed himself firmer against him, almost in defense, almost in distress. He took the hint, though; immediately, there were two strong arms keeping him as close as possible.

 

“Just bad stuff,” Wade whispered. “Target caught me before I could catch him, tied me up, ‘n pointed out that I’m ugly, like I don’t know that. That ‘m a monster, can’t be loved, the usual.”

 

One hand rubbed gentle circles on his belly, and his stomach tightened. He didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t want to feel like that asshole had a point, but the asshole had a point. He really had no business letting this hot daddy type hunk wash and kiss and cuddle him _like he mattered_. That was just wrong. That was setting Nate up for disappointment at some point, which was really unfair, and -

 

“I can hear you think,” Nathan gently interrupted. “I’m really proud of you that you told me, you know.”

 

Immediately, Wade snorted. “You have really low standards, huh?”

 

Nate made a little non-committal sound. His fingertips were skidding along the fucked up landscape of Wade’s torso again; he shivered.

 

“No. I’m not claiming to know exactly what goes on in your head, but I can’t imagine it was all that great. Yet you trust me enough to talk. That’s really good, Wade, you’re doing amazing.”

 

Another shiver, stronger this time. Little pleasure signals went off in his head as he tried to repeat those words as often as possible in Nathan’s voice; _amazingamazingamazingreallygoodWadeamazing._ The pleasure signals turned into tear stinging. It still felt good.

 

“And you look gorgeous like this,” Nate went on, casually, like those words weren’t wrecking Wade to a point of no return. “Look at you, all relaxed, and clean, and beautiful. Could kiss you all over.”

 

Wade’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt his dick twitch under water, against Nate’s thigh. Nathan hummed.

 

“Like that thought, baby?”

 

 _Baby_. Like a punch to the gut in the best possible way. “Mhm.”

 

Gentle fingers stroked his head. “Wanna do it now, or save it for later?”

 

It took a few moments for the question to really sink in through the haze in his head, but when it did, Wade automatically snuggled closer, pressing his nose right up to where he could still faintly smell Nate’s cologne. It smelled kind of comforting. Kind of hot, too.

 

But fuck, he really didn’t want to get out right now. “Do it later?”

 

Warm metal teasing a nipple; Wade’s exhale came out as a soft, content moan. He could feel Nate’s lips curl up in a smile against his head. “Whatever you want, this night is all about you.”

 

“Thought this’s just th’ bath.” Wade couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes, or move his mouth away from Nathan’s neck enough to speak properly. Maybe if he moved, the boneless effect would be ruined.

 

Nate’s hand went down from his nipple to his hip, with a thumb gently massaging at the V line down his abdomen. He was definitely, undoubtedly, irrevocably hard now, and Nate’s touches weren’t exactly helping, but who could blame him? Not only was he naked, in a bathtub, with someone that was definitely up there on his Would Bang list, but he was saying all these things that burned his insides and melted his brain.

 

This was jerk off material for _months_.

 

Two gentle fingers rubbing just inches above where his erection was bobbing in the water snapped him out of his thoughts. “If that’s what you want,” said Nathan, in that low, grumbly sex voice. “We could get out now and let you sleep off all this floatiness. I could spoon you too, if you want.”

 

“Hmm. Sounds pretty great.” Wade turned around just enough that he could press his back fully against Nate’s front again, though - and that was when he felt it.

 

Oh.

 

“Enjoying yourself.” It wasn’t a question, it was a conclusion. A shocked one.

 

Nate slowly pulled his arms away. “Hard not to, when you react so well.” He sounded pretty shameless about it. “Want me to back off, baby? I know you got one to match, but I said before that that’s not what I’m here for.”

 

Right. He had said that; just a bath, no sex. Disappointment pooled in his stomach almost immediately, ruining the whole blissful mood - when Nate’s arms suddenly wrapped around him again.

 

“You ain’t that difficult to read, gorgeous.” Warm lips pressed against Wade’s temple, sending a warm wave of heat up his spine again. “I meant that I’m not in this for me. If you want me to give you a hand, I’d be more than happy to.”

 

To put his money where his mouth was, he brought his flesh hand down again, and carefully traced one finger from the base, all the way over the scarred shaft, to the tip.

 

Wade wanted to fucking whine. “Such a fuckin’ tease.”

 

He could just _sense_ Nate’s smile. “Is that a yes?”

 

Wade’s hips jerked up on their own account. “Full, happy consent, you weirdo,” he said, mostly teasingly, because he was pretty sure that he was close to making embarrassing sounds, otherwise. “With your fucking monster kink.”

 

That last bit had been said quietly, but there was nothing in the quiet bathroom to drown it out, and the hand close to Wade’s dick didn’t seem to move at all. Nothing about Nate seemed to move, actually.

 

His voice was completely even when he asked: “What kink?”

 

Oh, right. “You know,” Wade tried to brush it off. “Like those people who want to fuck Slenderman, or that horror clown.”

 

There was one beat of silence, before warm lips returned to the side of Wade’s neck. “You might be a clown at times, but there’s nothing horror about you.” Before Wade had a chance to protest that, he pushed the two of them apart just enough to be able to catch his lips in a soft, quick kiss, effectively rendering him speechless. He didn’t remove his hand from Wade’s face, though, just forced him to keep looking at him.

 

“You’re not a monster, Wade. Not on the inside, not on the outside. Do you think I would be - Wade, baby, open your eyes.”

 

But Wade didn’t want to open his eyes, because this was all too real. It was too serious. Making eye contact was just so… intense, and this had been a day already so full of intensity. At this point, he just wanted to get out, dry off, go to bed, jerk off, cry a little, and go to sleep.

 

Nate had other plans, though. Gently, he felt his lips press against his own again. No movement, no action - just that light touch, like anything else would break him like a delicate, porcelain bird.

 

Fuck him.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Wade heard him whisper, as he moved over to Wade’s chin, his neck, his shoulder with his butterfly kisses. “You’re just scarred, Wade, it’s not like you got horns and breathe fire on kids as a hobby. I don’t have a monster kink. I just appreciate handsome men. ‘s That so bad?”

 

Sometimes Nate was just impossible to argue with. “Guess the bible says it’s sin.”

 

Nathan huffed a laugh against his shoulder, making Wade shiver once more. “Hm, maybe, but that book says we’re going to hell anyway, for other reasons. Might as well add some eternities, right?”

 

“What happened to your whole messiah complex?”

 

“Left it in the kitchen.” Sharp teeth nipped gently at the point where shoulder met neck. “Open your eyes, gorgeous, c’mon.”

 

But Wade knew that all the Stupid, Shitty Feelings in his stomach would only get Stupider and Shittier if he did, so instead, he stubbornly turned his head away, and crossed his arms.

 

For, like, two seconds, until Nate folded his own arms over Wade's (for as far as he could reach), and very, very gently traced a finger just under his ribs, and hit a particularly ticklish spot. Wade jolted.

 

Nathan snorted against the back of his neck. “Sensitive?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

His breaths were cool puffs against his wet neck and shoulders, making a sharp contrast with the warm tub water. “Not tonight.”

 

Oh. “We were on handjob basis, like, a minute ago!”

 

Nate hummed in agreement. “And do you remember where that went wrong?”

 

Wade said nothing.

 

“Think you know what I wanna hear before I get my hand down there again, baby?”

 

Well, who knew that Nathan Summers could be such a soft, manipulative fucking dick? “What, that I’m not a monster?”

 

“Need you to say it a little bit more like you actually mean it.”

 

Assholeassholeassholeasshole -

 

But then there was one metal finger that started tracing every scar on his abdomen, and okay, yeah, maybe it was worth a shot. “I’m not a monster.”

 

“That’s very good,” praised Nate. “Keep going.”

 

“With what?”

 

“Improvise.”

 

The finger was getting lower and lower in the patterns it was tracing. So fuck it. “I’m not a monster,” Wade repeated, quieter this time. “And I’m a hot piece of ass.”

 

Nate snorted, but then kissed the side of his neck, causing Wade to shiver again. “You really are.”

 

Still no hand, though. “Just touch me, Summers, ‘m dying here.”

 

That just earned him a sharp flick on the dick, and Wade yelped. “Patience.”

 

“You little fucking sadist,” Wade hissed. “Who knew? First all that gentle Dom shit, now this? Are you gonna choke me? You into choking, old man? Because fuck, I think that we could have a _lot_ -”

 

“Wade.”

 

Wade fell quiet.

 

“What else did that guy tell you today, again?”

 

_I’m ugly. I’m a monster._

 

 _I can’t be loved_.

 

“Say it, gorgeous, come on.”

 

Wade’s mouth felt dry, his voice was flat. “Can’t be loved.”

 

But Nate’s arms were warm around him, his heartbeat steady against Wade’s back, his stubble gentle and rough at the same time against his shoulder. That One Finger rubbed gently at the base of his half hard dick. “Try again.”

 

“I…” Oh, what a dickhead. Weren’t sexy times supposed to be fun? Wade felt closer to crying than smiling at this point. “Can be loved?”

 

Gently, Nathan started stroking up and down with just his thumb and forefinger. Enough to send a pang of arousal down his spine, not quite enough to really _feel good_. “Keep going, baby.”

 

Keep going on _what?_ “I can be loved, so he’s wrong?”

 

“Mhm.” A couple of more fingers joined, to a reasonable grip, just not firm enough. “You can be, will be, and are loved, idiot. Would I be doing this if I didn’t?”

 

That question sunk in slowly, because Wade’s mind kind of crashed. That was Nathan Summers, telling him that he loved him. And fuck, that asshole _meant it_.

 

Wade slowly felt himself relax against him again, his breathing becoming slower, shallower. “No.”

 

“Of course not.” He started to pump his hand up and down Wade’s cock properly now, although it was _infuriatingly_ slow. Still, it was good enough to let out a soft groan of relief. Fucking finally. “I’m doing this because you deserve it to feel nice.”

 

The corners of Wade’s mouth twitched. “You gonna tell me I’m a good boy, Daddy?” he joked.

 

“A very good one,” Nathan replied, all serious and everything, and _fuck_ , that wasn’t supposed to be hot. It was, though, on a deeper level than Wade wanted to admit; he was _good_.

 

His breathing got a little more shallow, and when a metal thumb rubbed over his slit, Wade moaned quietly, tightening his core against all the sensation. “Jesus, fuck.”

 

Soft kisses were peppered all over his neck, his ear, his head. “Good boy. There you go. Relax for me, baby, you deserve it.”

 

God, the prick just _knew_ that it was working, and Wade hated it, and he loved it. Slowly, he relaxed all against him again, closing his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose.

 

And that’s how Nathan kept on going, with slow strokes, murmuring all kinds of praise against scarred skin. “So beautiful -” Hitch in breath, “- so good for me -”, soft moan, “ - you’ve done great today, Wade, let go, I got you -”, breathing gone shallow, “- your head’s feeling good, hmm? Gone all quiet, baby, enjoying yourself? That’s perfect. You’re gorgeous like this, so beautiful, all mine -” _ohgodohgodohgod_ , “ - that’s it, baby, come for me.”

 

It was this slowly building thing, the heat building in him, because unlike when he did this himself, Wade wasn’t clenching any muscles to force it to speed along, Nathan wasn’t going any quicker than before - he just felt _good_. Not desperate to get some release, not jerking so hard that his dick hurt, just… feeling good, feeling content, feeling at ease.

 

That’s probably why he only whispered a quiet “ _fuck_ ” as he did as he was told, despite feeling like his whole body was on fire - but in the good way, this time. All consuming, burning flames that felt _so good_ , he might as well have eaten a bullet or two there.

 

Except a bullet didn’t keep feeling this good. Bullets didn’t have aftershocks. Bullets didn’t come with a marshmallow version of Nathan Summers caressing his stomach like a lover, mumbling praises in his ear, letting him float forever in this sweet, sweet nothingness.

 

“You’re floating in your own cum,” Nate said, and that would’ve been bad pillowtalk, if he hadn’t gone up and lifted Wade’s boneless body out of the tub, wrapped it in a towel, one-handedly dried both of them off, and carried him bridal style to his bed.

 

It was only when Wade felt his head hit the pillow, that a little, fleeting shot of distress pierced through his bliss bubble. “Nate?”

 

Nathan was already back in the door opening. “Hm?”

 

“Are you gonna…” His mouth refused to form the rest of that sentence, because he was feeling _really really good_ for once, and he didn’t wanna blow it by diving straight back into Worries™.

 

But Nate wasn’t gonna. Nate just closed the bedroom door, laid down beside him, pulled him close, and asked: “How’s your head?”

 

Wade quietly took the hand around his waist, kissed its metal palm, and fell asleep.


End file.
